


an undoing

by ButtercupUtonium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtercupUtonium/pseuds/ButtercupUtonium
Summary: Blinking unseeing eyes around a hand found its way onto my forehead and I sighed for I knew the weight and the warmth of that particular hand. My mother.Indeed I have died.Relieved and worried all at once I took a moment to mourn young Harry.Musing all that could be, and had been, lost."Albie. Please wake up." Aberforth.My heart panged, my baby brother, hasn't called me Albie since before my own Hogwarts schooling days. He sounded so worried.I wondered if he too has died. If Riddle's wizarding forces had taken him down in his pub or the streets of Hogsmeade. Or maybe he was here, drawn to the base of the astronomy tower of Hogwarts, where I lay defeated, according to plan, a pawn discarded from a game I set into motion but could no longer play."Dad's fetching a mediwizard," Aberforth's voice came angelic from beside my ear. "You'll wake soon, Albie. You must."A weigh settled on my shoulder, thick heavy tears landed on me and with each my senses cleared and blazed and I was in my childhood bed of Mould-On-The-Wold, Alberforth holding me prone.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

Feverish I shook, body probably broken, wondering how Severus could possibly have missed me, my entire being wrecked.

No green light graces my eye lids though the great green snake and skull of Tom's sycophants must have shone high and bright in Hogwarts' open sky.

Blinking in seeing eyes around a hand found its way onto my forehead and I sighed for I knew the weight and the warmth of that particular hand. My mother. 

Indeed I have died. 

Relieved and worried all at once I took a moment to mourn young Harry. 

Musing all that could be, and had been lost. 

"Albie. Please wake up." Aberforth. 

My heart panged, my baby brother, hasn't called my Albie since before my own Hogwarts schooling days. He sounded so worried. 

I wondered if he too has died. If Riddle's existing forces had taken him down in his pub or the streets of Hogsmeade. Or maybe he was here, drawn to the door of the astronomy tower of Hogwarts, where I lay defeated according to plan, a pawn discarded from a game I set into motion but could no longer play. 

"Dad's fetching a mediwizard," Aberforth's voice came angelic from beside my ear. "You'll wake soon, Albie. You must."

A weigh settled on my shoulder, thick heavy tears landed on me and with each my senses cleared and blazed and I was in my childhood bed of Mould-On-The-Wold, Aberforth holding me prone.

Confunded. Disorientated. I lifted an arm seemingly made of stone and wrapped its uncoordinated mass around my brother as best I could, Aberforth crying in earnest now, relieved I suppose, or maybe further worried by my lack of focus, uncharacteristic of me throughout life.

My brother, being only two years younger than I, seemed impossibly younger at the moment for I still felt all the years of my century and some. And yet, he appeared eight. 

Not eight centuries of course no. Simply, impossibly, eight years old. 

"Abe," said, voice scratchy, unable to tell if this after of life was a heaven or a hell but sickening and sweet and heartbreaking enough to be both. "Abe. I'm sorry."

All went still for a heartbeat and then the room sprung to action. 

"Albus?" My mother's voice came from next to us, her eyes, the blue that she had graced all her children with, wide and anxious, face pinched but unlined, leaning over me and again took temperature of my head. 

The comfort I found in the action immeasurable, I closed my eyes. 

"Albie!" Aberforth screeched loud, a panicked and desolate sound altogether and I wanted to open my eyes, to seek forth the source of his torment but even with my newfound feeling of strength, I could not. 

Footsteps echoed around the room, that grew warmer with the growing of the fire at the door of my bed. My father quickly took command of the situation. A firm man throughout his life and ever the gentleman, he also knew when to take charge and did he ever, Aberforth's struggle as he was removed from the very light grasp my arm had on him felt painful on my aching ribs. 

"What has happened to this child?" An unknown person inquired. 

"We know not. Simply found as he is now, prone and weak and ill." My father replied. Banging came from somewhere and I distinctly heard my mother cast a silencing charm to cut off the ruckus that must have been Aberforth trying to get back into the room.

I tried to open my eyes but they only fluttered uselessly.

"He has been attacked." The voice spoke tensely. "A near death experience, he nearly emptied his magical core stabilizing himself. He'll border between life or death for perhaps a month maybe two. I suggest placing him into the custody of Margaret Bulstrode, a healer more skilled than I with counter-curses and death defiance." There's was an uncomfortable pause where I realized I knew absolutely nothing of anything and no longer did the world make any sense.

For I must be dead.

Then the healer spoke, "I also recommend, no offense meant good sir, but maybe a relocation is in order as it is very clear to me someone tried to murder your boy."

Silence reined and footsteps made there way far from me.

The door opened to the ruckus once more before closing with a click and silent once more.

My father lay his hand on my face. 

Then arms plucked me up as if I were enchanted feather-light and my father carried me out into the hall and spoke.

"We must go."

No one questioned him. 

I could hear the whirl of things through the air, the brush of magic at hard work. 

"Will Albus be alright, Papa?" Arizona's voice came from beside us and I struggled hard to look at her. Turn my head and see the sister I had failed. I could not. 

Tears of frustration fell as heavy and as thick from my lashes as Aberforths' tears of fear had landed on to shoulder moments earlier. 

"I just take him to another healer." Is all my father said. 

I could imagine the entire house packed up and empty for the end of his statement echoed in a way only places devoid of stuff could. 

"Ariana, do get his coat, would you?" 

"Yes, Mama."

And away we went, somewhere.

Utterly exhausted as I was, however, I missed most of what happened next.

When I awoke, eyes finally focusing, body feeling off as only those with fevers fresh broken felt, it was to my bedroom in Godric's hollow.

Bigger than the room at Mould-On-The-Wold. Fire place in the corner and not at the foot of the bed, my things placed awkwardly and unused, and completely out of my depth I stood. 

Or tried to stand. 

Very intrigued I inspected my ownself. 

I was young. And very thin. Thinner than I had ever been while young, although that had certainly been quite some time ago.

My limbs moved but with protest I hadn't experienced at a hundred. 

I was a shaking lamb. 

Gangly, awkward. 

Throat too unused to making noise I did no more than croak painfully before deciding to simply seek out who I was with if anyone or what had happened if anything or where I may be if I was truly anywhere.

The first person I came upon, sitting back towards me on the floor of our sitting room, was dear, sweet, and wonderful Ariana. 

She was dressed in a blue gown that ruffled outward and made it seem as if she were sinking into a blue silk cloud. Her blonde curls tied back in ribbons and her hands busy with dolls enchanted to float and waltz when she touched them. 

That the enchantment worked meant she didn't have an obscurial. But we were at Godric's Hollow. Which had only been out home after her condition. 

My head ached with the mystery of the situation I had somehow found myself in, but my heart soared and I decided to listen to what made the most sense.

My heart lead me beside her where with a tap I called enough strength within me to change the dress of her favorite doll, Rosey, if my memory serves correct, into the same cut and color as the one my sister had donned today. It was a trick I had to do wandless and wordless for years to head off small angry fits and elicit peels of laughter. 

I practiced throughout my Hogwarts years to get the trick down, either myself or Aberforth having to dance the dolls on her behalf when home. 

I got it perfected my third year. 

I still attribute the same trick to my later skill with wandless and wordless casting.

"Albie!" Ariana screamed from beside me, her little arms wrapping around my neck, welcoming me.

Tears fell from my own eyes as well, though much quieter than Ariana's bawling.

Arms came from behind me as well and I found myself trapped between the crushing embraces of both my brother and my sister.

"Albus!" Came from the hall, "Percival!" My mother called behind her as she rushed into the room, frantically waving her wand our way. 

My father popped into existence in a rare show of in-house apparation. 

"Albus." My father seemed much more relieved than worried.

All five of us were crying however.

And soon all five of us were hugging. 

Then we were say on the couch, me with a cup of water, Aberforth to my left, stoicly holding onto my hand. Ariana on my right, showing our parents what I had done to her doll, who was in fact Mrs. Rosey.

They shared an uneasy glance between them that eventually relaxed when they confirmed I did it on purpose. Although this was something I had to confirm silently, my throat still shut dispute the beverage.

"Albus, do you remember, who attacked you?" I could only blink. 

I remembered a hundred or so years ahead of this bizarre moment. Merely ask me. But how to tell them that person didn't exist quite yet nor was it unwelcome. 

In fact this was no doubt the best magical mishap to happen to me. 

I shrugged and shook my head. 

"It's my fault." Little Aberforth said quietly. "If I hadn't been at the Person's place instead of the Goyle's like I had said he wouldn't have even been on that street." The room exploded with voices and I hugged Aberforth to my chest, he burst into tears.

"Albus was attacked near the Goyle's?" My father asked my mother quietly. She whispered something to him I could not hear with both my siblings crying so hard near my ears.

"You only ever said he was on the street." My father's hand went to his wand and my mother touched his wrist. 

"So you could go on a duck chase through which of our friends might chance have harmed our son?" My mother hissed. 

I shook my head dramatically catching everyone's attention before smiling and gesturing that I felt fine which I think my parents at least understood. 

"I'm going to call the healer to look him over." My father said walking quickly to his office.

"I'm going to call your mother." My mother said walking quickly to the kitchen.

Aberforth wiped his tears with a heavy, shaky fist and and started to describe our childhood home to me. 

Ariana played happily with her dolls, occasionally bringing up some detail she thought Abe hasn't covered quite correctly. 

And I merely sat. 

Listened. 

Snug against Mother's favorite blue velvet couch in a place that could be described as a heaven - in the hearts and good graces of my family.


	2. Chapter 2

August the fourth, 1891.

Today's date. Today is August the fourth, 1891. 

My body was currently going through physical therapy leaving my mind to wonder as I struggled with the reality that I found myself in.

Perhaps I am merely delusional.

My body packed in the muscle as I exercised at night as well, for an hour or so after everyone was well in bed. My eyes taking in the books around me, forgetting just how much had changed and been discovered between my boyhood days and now. And then? And the future?

My apparent attack had spared Ariana her fate. 

Father seemed partially consumed with the need to know whom had attacked me. 

Which in my reckoning, had been myself. My future self?

I blamed myself. 

My brother found forgiveness in me and we played together, much closer than we'd been entirely previous. 

There were hushed arguments from my parents about possibly holding me back from going to Hogwarts for my first year, but as I was improving so well they had no physical malady to blame and thus, I was fully expected to be there, come September the first.

Although my mother did make a point to mention I was just on the line between acceptance, and going next year anyways. The thought of changing something so integral to myself as the year I began school and my peers and such made me wary notably enough that my father took up my cause and I was going.

We were to go shopping today. 

I had a few things already but regardless, felt like expanding my horizons to see exactly where I stood.

Finishing the last of my arm curls I stepped up to my valet, the enchanted bit of furniture that tried to dress me much too blandly and that I had fought with often in the past. 

Now, with new appreciation, I had waxed it to gleaming and suggested the purple best instead of being chased by it for an hour with a gray one. 

The valet seemed to sigh but whirled around to match my clothes nicely. 

While it did that I opened my toiletries box and the pitcher, exposed to air, filled itself with steamy water. 

Filling the bowl from it with both the water and a dash from a vial of rose water, I cleaned myself with a fresh loofah, which I had forgotten my mother had grown in her garden. Though in my defense, my mother had given up growing gourds when Ariana had needed her close.

It was familiar, altogether although it also felt incredibly removed from reality. 

One of the mirrors before me started whispering about how much better I had gotten at cleaning behind the ears since I had took ill.

The three mirrors seemed to argue and bicker and while before I had left them behind purposefully, I felt nostalgic and sentiment enough now that I had taken to dusting them when I tidied my room.

Finally ready to dress, I did so, looking very dashing if I did say so myself, done up on blue and red and purple. 

Ever a dandy.

The valet folded up a pocket handkerchief for me and the toiletries cleaned and packed themselves away, the brush remaining out.

Watching myself brush through red waves instead of long gone white boggled the mind.

I adjusted my sleeves and waited until I left the room before folding them up and cuffing them at the elbow, a sign of respect my furniture never got prior.

Although it has been a thing of great contention before, I felt the pettiness of a ten year old's problems in retrospect today and so my brother and sister were coming for this coming of age moment. 

We floo'd from home to a shop nearest Olivander's a long tradition in the Dumbledore line to buy the wand first and foremost.

My father kept the patrons of the Kneazle's Nest away from us as we passed by, their three large fireplaces looking behind us. 

The place was absolutely filled to the brim with kittens. 

Ariana wanted to stay and let them but my Father hurried us along and I plucked her up swing her to my hip.

I carried Ariana, occasionally twisting this way and that teasingly, a game of keep away with Aberforth over who may hold her. Abe, not seriously wanting to hold little Ariana, would instead grasp and shake her shoes and argue about if he could have her. She trilled and screeched in glee which, awfully, did remind me I would need an owl this time around, vowing to myself to keep up correspondence this time around. 

Olivanders' was ever the same and although the whole family line was near cursed with brilliant emotional sense and occasional legitimacy ability, my shields stood strong enough that I could remain unencumbered by discovery, although not quite completely unnoticed by Gerbold Olivander, who deadeyed me like one would a teenager one was sure had to be up to no good.

I remain that I am mostly innocent and undeserving of the look but I understood his hesitation.

After all, I was Albus Dumbledore. But I wasn't truly this Albus Dumbledore, was I?

Having shields was proof enough I wasn't the same ten year old I once was.

I handed Ariana off to my father without a pout, and went through several wands until mine came.

I had used the Elder wand most my life. But you always remember your own. 

Mine was Ebony wood, Phoenix feather core as most Dumbledore wands ended up being. Two silver bands of runes, popular of the times, and a twist of wood common in Gerbold's works. Ten and a half inches long, slimmer than most, and with just enough give to it for delicate charms and enchantment without making the more rigid transformation work slower than it needed to be. 

I had a moment of hesitation. 

Would it chose me again?

I could hide from Gerbold but not the wand. 

Would it know I had abandoned it? Would it abandon me in return? Could I really blame it for doing so?

But no. 

As soon as it was in my grasp, it felt like coming home. 

I twirled out colors and sparks and waves of light.

Abe looked at the show in wonder and Ariana clapped. My parents proud and a bit relieved, as the extent of damage to my magical core had been indeterminate.

I had trouble talking still. And my throat would close up unexpectedly. But I could get my point across and I could cast.

I could also cast a glance about the shop and found a pot of lemon oil and beeswax wand care polish and conditioner and a pack of three soft cotton rounds in their butcher paper bags I hadn't ever bought until I had graduated last go around, too excited and my mother too anxious last go around to teach me proper wand care.

I received a nod of approval from both my father and Gerbold. 

My father had given me my own money yesterday, another long standing Dumbledore tradition, and I counted out the sum and received it in its box. 

The rest of my purchases in a small bag that hung from my wrist easily. 

As a group we left the shop. 

My father refused, nicely, to return Ariana to me. Mother happened to be extremely underestimating my efforts and recovery.

From the corner of my eye I could see Abe near vibrating with some emotion or another and I pulled my wand from its box and the bag easily enough, offering it to him with a raised eyebrow and a partial shrug. 'Go ahead,' my body language said.

Abe's little mouth opened in shock but he took it, carefully and quickly, unsure if I was teasing him or not. 

Our mother stopped and took out her own wand in case it had a bad reaction but my wand had been neutral before and was just as neutral now. A brief haze of color appeared and I rustled a hand through Abe's hair.

I got a steely look from mother. 

Then Ariana wanted a turn. 

I inwardly have myself the eye.

This hasn't been an option last time but I gently held out a hand for my wand and when Abe returned it, I flipped it handle side forward and allowed her a grasp. 

Nothing happened. 

Ariana was disappointed, understandably so, but shook it off with stories of when she got her own falling from her mouth rapid enough that they only just made sense. 

Mother wanted to go to the book store next, accepting Ariana's hand when Abe preferred to go to the toy shop and Father agreed to take him.

I put my wand back into its box, ready to go buy books when my mother stopped me.

"Go on, here's what you'll need." My mother said as Ariana squirmed in her arms and caused a fuss. A list of ingredients and equipment made their way into my hand and, choice made for me, I headed that way. 

I was using my great grandfather's equipment when I got to third year. It was an impressive set, and meticulously upkept. 

I figured out most of the uses of Dragon's blood on that set. Made them a protected species during a time most wanted to just give up and get rid of them. 

That would be forty years from now? Fifty?

Keeping the original set in mind and the replacement and upgrades it had needed, few thankfully, I set my sights on the shelves. 

Momentarily distracted when I saw Bathilda Bagshot. 

Gellert's aunt.

Gellert.

Nine years old since I'm ten. 

Life is strange.

"Basic, standard, first year love?" The lady at the desk asked, half paying attention.

"No, I'm looking for knives of copper and fine silver respectfully, and I need replacement string for a portable collapsing scale of you have them." I said after straightening my spine that in face of Gellert's aunt I felt I didn't quite have. My voice was hard to hear and I had to clear my throat twice but I was understood fine in the nearly empty store. 

"Inheirated a potion kit, dear?" Bathilda asked casually.

"Prefer it." I offered voice still quiet and rough. "They don't make things as they used to." 

She laughed, delighted. "Indeed, young man. "

"We don't have copper knives in stock." The saleswoman said as she accio'd the silver knife and strings to be wrapped up. 

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"So polite." Being eyed up by your evil soulmate whom you've never met yet's favorite aunt felt so strange. For indeed she was sizing up my worth and hopefully wasn't finding me lacking. "I have a copper knife somewhere, dear, perhaps I'll owl it to you."

"You don't need to Ma'am, not going to need it until second year anyway, I believe," I said dipping a bow her way, "Albus Dumbledore."

"Bathilda."

"Nice to meet you Ma'am."

And then she walked away, her own purchases rung up and drifting behind her. 

The ingredients for first year were all boxed up for easy sales and I supplemented it with what I couldn't gather at Hogwarts. A few, whole, fragrant spices in burlap sachets and some jars of insects.

Looking around I added variety of feathers and a rough, textured, plate in clear inert glass for fine grating.

Leaving the store, I glanced around and spotted my parents having a quiet, silenced, argument in the road, my mother's eyes wide and my father angry.

I walked faster.

Abe spotted me first and ran to me, slinging his arms around my waist desperately. 

"Someone tried to kill him Kendra." My father spoke quietly but not at all calmly. 

"So he's supposed to be scared and sheltered forever? We're about to send him to a boarding school, Percival."

"I trust Hogwarts; students, faculty. I don't trust the middle of a very popular, open to anyone shopping center, Kendra."

Uncomfortable, I walked over to them, "I'm fine."

They stepped apart from one another and my Father out his hand on my shoulder, leading me toward the Kneazle Nest. 

"We're going home." 

My mother looked like she wanted to argue with him but she didn't.

I made a few noises in the back of my throat, feeling it close up. 

"Albus?" My father questioned his eyes staring deep into mine. I realized how high string he was. 

"Owl." I managed.

My father relaxed and smiled, fond of me. "I'll get you a fine owl, Albus."

And that was that. 

Ariana didn't even say anything as we passed the kneazle kits. 

I realized, painfully, that now I was the protected one, not her. 

...

The very next morning, my Father presented me with a very beautiful, very agile snowy owl that reminded me very much of a boy with a special scar who had one similar.


	3. Chapter 3

Bliss, short for Blizzard, somehow managed to eat an entire jar of my rhino beetles and their larvae. Decimating the population by half. A cruel queen on her throne as she preened and perched on her oak tree. 

The art of pruning a small tree for your aviary inclined animals had been all the rage currently. I have been gifted three such living perches. One of holly, one of yarrow, and, suspiciously, one of elder. 

Wand woods are the custom, or so I am told, so I can't do much but think hard on the gift and worry about it. 

Blizzard was so named because of her rather remarkable white plumage. She was still only a baby so under the trees, tucked around the pots, was room for her to lay on her stomache, very much the picture of whatever directly opposed grace. 

My dear Fawkes had always out grown the flat out belly sleep stage quickly and I very much enjoyed Bliss' lasting more than a few days. 

But now she puffed out every feather and stared. Making herself seem very big and I am sure a wholehearted threat. 

I set the remaining jar of beetles cautiously down and thought for a moment about calling down to my family. 

Abe and Ariana couldn't stop playing with Amanda in the sitting room. Amanda, the brand new kneazle kit, strictly for context purposes, is in fact a male kneazle kit. 

Arian a simply preferred the name. 

I gifted her a bow of blue with a bell attached. 

Amanda loved it. 

I could hear it from here, tinkling and bringing forth laughter as the rambunctious kit explored and played, my siblings hooting and hollering along. 

I'm not at all certain I would be heard. 

I sat still in the attic, my great grandfather's potioneer set in front of me, copper and porcelain and inert metals and reactive blocks and magnets and all the like spread out and neat.

Vials accounted for and packed neat and snug together. 

A collapsible scale in one of my hands.

For the most part enough for a first year, of my year. 

On the sill of the attic window sat an abnormally large, regal eagle owl. With a package.

For me.

I opened the package and a very nice, simple, scalpel-style copper blade gleamed from within it. 

I went to say something but the unexpected visitor flew off with a huff. 

My father had wards up against owls.

Because of potential murderers. 

I checked the scalpel for curses before simply adding it to my potions tools, which I had quite forgot had once been called notions, much like a sewing kit.

Choosing not to ruminate on either ward breaking owls nor questionable small trees, I packed the kit up nearly in its box and took the lot downstairs. 

My mother sat across from my father giving him a strange, hateful look I hadn't seen. Although in previous times I had already lost my father to Ariana's attackers. So what did I know?

Worried, disturbed, I went and joined my siblings. 

Abe threw a pillow in my face.

Good a long moment I worried about the red curls I had slept my way into perfecting last night and then, laughed. 

Uproariously.

I had two dark wizards on my horizon. 

I had no allies to speak of.

And hear I was. 

Worrying over curls. 

I full body tackled my brother into the couch. Taking advantage of his temporary uneasy when all he got was a laugh.

Ariana, unharmed, magical Ariana, laughed louder still and pillows flew, some aided but most not, by magic. 

Bliss flew to the top of a cabinet and watched us wrestle. 

I felt like a child for the first time since overcoming one of them. 

We started off again and again with blindfolded games and running about. A couple hand claps I barely remember the names of though I'm sure I wrote a few. A hand or two of cards. 

My mother eventually stopped us, doing nothing more than stargazing from a tall window, late enough in the night that my siblings dozed got carried to bed by father.

With a hard set to her eyes she called me into the kitchen where I straightened my spine and prepared myself for a lecture on starting anything involving projectiles. 

"We're sending you to Durmstrang."

I felt everything shift a bit to the left and honestly panicked. 

"Pardon?"

"No debate. No lip. I've a professor friend there. You'll be spending your Saturdays with him, hush." My mother's face grew simply diabolical as she stared me down from whatever I had been about to say. "Their institute does things a bit differently. You'll need to go shopping." She straightened up slightly, pulling out a fist-sized pouch of thick, buttery, black leather with moleskin lining and brass hardware. "Your funds for the entire year. Your ingredients will need to be bought fresh prior to every class so keep it in you. It's against some policy for you to not carry your wand so a holster will need to be made." 

A familiar hundred years stare over took her face then. Worn as she had ever been. 

"No arguments I mean it, you leave tomorrow morning, early."

I admit to being too dumbfounded in that morning to make my case. 

Rest assured every moment from then until time to go was spent nearly temper tantruming my fate.

Useless.

I went through every stage of grief and the thought of being so very near to Gellert felt like I was being punished. 

By morning, my things were packed and I was shuffled off with Professor Archie. Archibald, who was in fact balding and hated it. 

"Well, Albus," his accent was thick and unmistakably pleased. "You'll be staying with me for a few days."

Nothing was going to plan. 

My room was a lovely palette of lilacs and sapphires with creme. My bed looked frilly and lacy and soft. It was. 

I lay much like my dear Bliss. Face down and stretched to my feet. 

The desk was too small but the institute held first class in three days. 

Still, perhaps if I made enough trouble in three days, I would be sent back?

Hogwarts being the obvious choice and Durmstang being a temporary insanity, of course?

I felt my brow rise as I realized that was thought I would have had, pre-first war. 

The cockyness. The arrogance. 

The untested youth.

That couldn't be good.

That wasn't who I am any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, real life has me down. 
> 
> Small update to wrap up my thoughts. A transition filled chapter. 
> 
> But now you know where I'm taking this. :)


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